


It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

by TryingToMystrade (TryingToScribble)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, Mycroft needs a hug, mycroft has had enough, mycroft hates christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToMystrade
Summary: Mycroft has had enough of Christmas music. Well, Christmas in general, but the music is getting on his last nerve.It's just a little moment in the lives of Mycroft and Greg but I hope it brings a smile to your face :)
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebuell33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/gifts).



> [It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PI7RCNHnPms)

Greg is singing under his breath with the radio when Mycroft walks into the kitchen after work. He looks up and greets him with a smile around the words, but Mycroft sidesteps him to turn the station over. Greg frowns.

“Are you okay?” He asks because it isn’t like Mycroft to forgo a quick kiss on his return home, and it also isn’t like him to interrupt without asking.

Mycroft just sighs and leans back against the counter next to Greg, staring at the dishes in Greg’s hands. “Yes. I’m sorry, but I’ve had it thrown at me all day and I won’t be responsible for my actions if I hear any more.”

Greg raises his eyebrows. “Woah. Okay. What’s been thrown at you, love?”

“Christmas music,” Mycroft practically sneers as he glances over to the radio to glare at it like it's personally responsible.

Greg huffs a breath in surprise. “I know you don’t much care for this time of year and, yeah, some of those songs are overplayed, but surely it can’t be that bad?”

“It really is,” Mycroft insists in a quiet whine. “Every Winter we have to go around nodding and smiling to fake greetings and well wishes from the same people who wouldn’t care if you were dead any other time of the year. We are expected to be jolly and merry and spread cheer even if we can hardly find the energy to get out of bed. We are pressured into spending ridiculous amounts of money to show our affection rather than spending any real time together. The point of Christmas was supposed to be the excitement of children waiting for some magical man to bring them everything they wished for. Now it’s expensive commercial horror driven to the point of needless excess. It was supposed to be about bringing friends and families together to celebrate and enjoy themselves. Now I have to spend the whole of Christmas Day every single year listening to my mother’s incessant rants about what I’ve done wrong for the past year but how many amazing things my brother has accomplished as a ‘real detective’, as if Sherlock has the first clue about the amount of work you do. And as if they have to rub salt any further into the wound, they remind us over and over with these atrocious Christmas songs.”

Greg blinks. Then he places the dish he’s holding on the drying rack by the sink and throws the kitchen towel that was draped around his arm over his shoulder. Then, with his now free hands, he stands in front of Mycroft and drapes his arms over Mycroft’s shoulders so he can run gentle fingers through the other man’s hair. “You really did have a bad day, huh?”

All of the tension drips off of Mycroft as he lets his head drop onto Greg’s shoulder and winds his own arms around Greg’s waist. He hums his response. Greg nods.

“Do you want to talk to me about where all that came from?”

Mycroft sags further into Greg but makes another noise that Greg interprets as a negative. He nods again.

“Okay. Well then I’m going to tell you what I think.” He continues to run his hands through Mycroft’s hair in a slow and relaxing motion, sometimes letting his nails drag lightly at the nape of his neck. “I think that Christmas is like any other time of the year in that it is what you make of it. I know that you haven’t chosen to spend quality family time getting a rollocking from your mum but maybe this year you can tell your mum you’re unavailable. She doesn’t let you use work as an excuse but surely she can’t tell you off for wanting to spend time with your amazing boyfriend, hmm? You can spend the whole day with me and I can show you how I celebrate the holidays. Maybe it can become how _we_ celebrate the holidays. What do you reckon?”

They stand in silence while Mycroft thinks about it a moment. His fingers curl in the back of Greg’s shirt and Greg knows that’s a good sign.

“I think my mother will invite you to Christmas dinner.”

Greg chuckles. “We could do that if you want. You know I’ll go anywhere with you.” He turns to press a kiss to Mycroft’s neck. “I’m just letting you know that it won’t hurt them if you tell them that you’re spending the day with my family and I tell my lot that I’m spending the day with yours.”

There is another beat and then Mycroft is leaning back just far enough that he can show Greg that he’s smiling devilishly. Greg has just enough time to grin back at him before he’s being pulled into a kiss.

Greg hums his approval. “I take it you’re on board with that.”

“You’re a scoundrel and I love you.” Mycroft grins his own approval and tugs Greg even closer. He tucks his face back into Greg’s neck and settles there with a sigh of satisfaction. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love. Always.”

They are together, content in that moment, until Greg speaks again because he can’t help himself.

“I am the magical man who brings you everything you wish for.”

Mycroft groans pitilessly and buries his face further while Greg laughs wholeheartedly, and they both clutch each other tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy Birthday!!


End file.
